NCIS: Squish
Aug. 23rd, 2011 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: Squish
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Characters: Abby Sciuto, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Timothy McGee, Tony DiNozzo, Ziva David, and some bad guys
Prompt:smeddley requested, "A conversation between Abby and Gibbs as they are stuck in a very small space, with the enemy surrounding them. Explosions optional."
Summary: Some terrorists or something come and shoot up NCIS headquarters.
Author's Notes: This would probably have more "conversation" and less "squish" if Gibbs talked more.
“Abby, get down!”
Abby would have listened, absolutely—she always listened to Gibbs—but she didn’t get a chance. Before he even finished the command he’d grabbed her by the collar and dragged her under his desk with him. There wasn’t a lot of space under there, and she was quickly squished right up against him. “Oh, Gibbs, if you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was say so,” she said breathlessly. It wasn’t that she was excited to be down here with him, but rather that there was suddenly gunfire all around, and she was trying to lighten the mood as best she could while her boss loaded his gun and tried to get a look out from under the desk without getting shot.
“McGee, you all right?” Gibbs shouted.
“I’m good, boss,” came the weak response. Thankfully, Tony and Ziva were out of the building at the moment, interviewing the wife of a dead Navy lieutenant. Then again, maybe it would have been better if they were around. Abby didn’t know whether it was worse to have them presumably safe but elsewhere or to have them in danger of gunfire but where she could see them and they could protect her.
“What do they want?” she asked Gibbs, finally giving up on the jokes when she couldn’t come up with anything else. “What are they doing here?” Gibbs really did smell like sawdust and gunpowder.
“I don’t know,” Gibbs said fiercely, “but they’re not going to get it.” He ducked out from under the desk and squeezed off three shots. Abby yelped as she heard someone grunt with the impact.
“Don’t do that!” she cried as he came back under the desk, grabbing his arm (not the one holding the gun) and holding it against herself. Not that there was anywhere else to hold it. Maybe she should take her boots off to make more space. “You could be hurt!”
“I’ll be fine, Abbs,” he assured her unconvincingly. “I already took down one of the bastards. I’m not letting them shoot up the whole damn Navy Yard.”
Abby wasn’t convinced. The gunfire hadn’t slowed down as far as she could hear. She squeezed his arm harder. He turned his head, which was pressed against the underside of the desk, to look at her. “Let me go, Abbs.” She shook her head, then loosened her grip in surprise when she heard shots from across the bullpen. What was McGee doing? Gibbs took the opportunity to pull away and get off another few shots.
“I wish I had a gun,” said Abby. True, she’d never shot one outside the ballistics lab or the firing range, but she was a pretty good shot. And it would be nice to get out from under here sooner rather than later. She couldn’t get her shoes off anyway; her legs were folded underneath her, and if she tried to unfold them she’d kick Gibbs.
“There’s probably one in Ziva’s desk,” said Gibbs. “That doesn’t mean you should go out there.”
“I would never do that!” she said indignantly. “I could get shot!”
Then she heard a voice that made her heart fly into her throat. “Tony, get down!” It was Ziva. They were back. Why now? Abby grabbed Gibbs’ arm again and held it tightly. This was more for comfort than to keep him down here. The gunfire did not, to her untrained ears, sound like it had changed it all.
Then it stopped, quite suddenly. “Okay,” came Tony’s voice, sounding strained. “We got them. Want to take this one to interrogation, boss?”
Gibbs stood up. Then he helped Abby up. Tony was standing by the elevator. There were four dead people dressed all in black on the floor. Ziva was kneeling on a fifth one’s back. He was trying, rather fruitlessly, to struggle.
“Okay,” said Abby. “Let’s not do that again.”
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Characters: Abby Sciuto, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Timothy McGee, Tony DiNozzo, Ziva David, and some bad guys
Prompt:
smeddley requested, "A conversation between Abby and Gibbs as they are stuck in a very small space, with the enemy surrounding them. Explosions optional."Summary: Some terrorists or something come and shoot up NCIS headquarters.
Author's Notes: This would probably have more "conversation" and less "squish" if Gibbs talked more.
“Abby, get down!”
Abby would have listened, absolutely—she always listened to Gibbs—but she didn’t get a chance. Before he even finished the command he’d grabbed her by the collar and dragged her under his desk with him. There wasn’t a lot of space under there, and she was quickly squished right up against him. “Oh, Gibbs, if you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was say so,” she said breathlessly. It wasn’t that she was excited to be down here with him, but rather that there was suddenly gunfire all around, and she was trying to lighten the mood as best she could while her boss loaded his gun and tried to get a look out from under the desk without getting shot.
“McGee, you all right?” Gibbs shouted.
“I’m good, boss,” came the weak response. Thankfully, Tony and Ziva were out of the building at the moment, interviewing the wife of a dead Navy lieutenant. Then again, maybe it would have been better if they were around. Abby didn’t know whether it was worse to have them presumably safe but elsewhere or to have them in danger of gunfire but where she could see them and they could protect her.
“What do they want?” she asked Gibbs, finally giving up on the jokes when she couldn’t come up with anything else. “What are they doing here?” Gibbs really did smell like sawdust and gunpowder.
“I don’t know,” Gibbs said fiercely, “but they’re not going to get it.” He ducked out from under the desk and squeezed off three shots. Abby yelped as she heard someone grunt with the impact.
“Don’t do that!” she cried as he came back under the desk, grabbing his arm (not the one holding the gun) and holding it against herself. Not that there was anywhere else to hold it. Maybe she should take her boots off to make more space. “You could be hurt!”
“I’ll be fine, Abbs,” he assured her unconvincingly. “I already took down one of the bastards. I’m not letting them shoot up the whole damn Navy Yard.”
Abby wasn’t convinced. The gunfire hadn’t slowed down as far as she could hear. She squeezed his arm harder. He turned his head, which was pressed against the underside of the desk, to look at her. “Let me go, Abbs.” She shook her head, then loosened her grip in surprise when she heard shots from across the bullpen. What was McGee doing? Gibbs took the opportunity to pull away and get off another few shots.
“I wish I had a gun,” said Abby. True, she’d never shot one outside the ballistics lab or the firing range, but she was a pretty good shot. And it would be nice to get out from under here sooner rather than later. She couldn’t get her shoes off anyway; her legs were folded underneath her, and if she tried to unfold them she’d kick Gibbs.
“There’s probably one in Ziva’s desk,” said Gibbs. “That doesn’t mean you should go out there.”
“I would never do that!” she said indignantly. “I could get shot!”
Then she heard a voice that made her heart fly into her throat. “Tony, get down!” It was Ziva. They were back. Why now? Abby grabbed Gibbs’ arm again and held it tightly. This was more for comfort than to keep him down here. The gunfire did not, to her untrained ears, sound like it had changed it all.
Then it stopped, quite suddenly. “Okay,” came Tony’s voice, sounding strained. “We got them. Want to take this one to interrogation, boss?”
Gibbs stood up. Then he helped Abby up. Tony was standing by the elevator. There were four dead people dressed all in black on the floor. Ziva was kneeling on a fifth one’s back. He was trying, rather fruitlessly, to struggle.
“Okay,” said Abby. “Let’s not do that again.”